


they'll tell the story of tonight

by thomasmxller



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasmxller/pseuds/thomasmxller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>things you said when you were crying</p>
            </blockquote>





	they'll tell the story of tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> y'all i am new to this so be nice but any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated!

    Manuel is numb. The roar of the crowd behind him has quieted into a dull buzz. He can see a clump of blue shirted players celebrating with their coach. Turning away, his teammates are scattered across the pitch, positioned in various states of distress. _This wasn’t how this was supposed to end._ He thinks distantly.Finale Dahoam was supposed to be their moment, a shining star ushering in the new era of German Football dominance.

     He thinks back on the penalties. _If I had only been able to save one more_ , he begins agitatedly as he follows his teammates into the locker room. It is quiet, almost deathly so. Philipp has miraculously kept up a mask on his emotion and continues to move from person to person, whispering quiet words of encouragement. As his eyes scan the locker room, he notices the absence of the one person he wants to see.

     ‘Thomas,” He mutters to no one in particular. Fips turns at Manuel’s word, and gestures with a hand towards the showers. Manuel’s eyebrow quirked at this. ‘Already?’ He asks. The majority of the team had only just left the pitch and even still, he was sure others were still congratulating their competition as was appropriate. ‘He came down here just after the last…’ Fips starts but trails off just gesturing. Manuel pushes past him to find Thomas but stills when Philipp grabs his arm. ‘ I think I heard crying.’ He whispers, his eyes staring at the floor. Manuel’s heart aches. He has only been at Bayern a year, had only known Thomas for two years before then, but they had become close, dangerously so, during his time in Munich. He knows how much the club means to Thomas, knows how close he hold it under his skin. He can only imagine how it fells to fail so close to the top, the way they did this year, first with the league and cup, and now this.

     He enters cautiously. If Thomas rejects his presence, Manuel will not force it upon him. Slowly, he makes his way to the last stall, where he can see Thomas, fully clothed standing under the shower head, icy water on full blast onto his head. Reaching around his soaking friend, Manuel turns the water off, preparing himself for whatever Thomas will come at him with. He was only mostly ready. The tears he was ready for. The anger is … surprising. Manuel half prepares to duck the right hook he’s sure is coming his way before Thomas slumps against the tile and plops himself to the floor. His jaw is set and his eyes, wet, but determined as he watch Manuel sit down next to him. Their knees knock together as Manuel watches Thomas try and control his quivering jaw. Thomas opens his mouth, probably to echo Manuel’s previous sentiment of how this was The One, but his eyebrows turn downward and the words the spill out of his mouth are loud and angry and Manuel can only understand half of the insults and curse words spewing out of friends mouth, the half in Bavarian and Spanish or Portuguese or whatever he has picked up playing with their diverse team. Manuel slaps a hand over Thomas’s mouth before someone comes in to investigate.

     ‘What the hell?’ Manuel asks rather redundantly. He understands the anger, if maybe he doesn’t feel it quite so deeply. Thomas’s eyes bore into his, eyebrows lifting almost as if to challenge before Manuel feels something cold brush against the palm of his hand still locked over Thomas’s mouth. ‘Did you just.’ He begins, withdrawing his hand in shock, ‘Did you just fucking lick me?’  
     Petulantly, Thomas refuses to speak, his eyebrow instead shifting as if to answer. It is only for a moment, though, before he seems to remember their current state and lowers his head into his hands. Manuel can’t help but to mirror him.

_Always with the goddamn penalti-_

‘If you keep thinking that way Manu I’m gonna have to be the one who shuts you up.’

   There it was again. That dangerous territory he and Thomas were inches from tumbling into. Manuel is half tempted to ask him how Thomas had planned on doing that but that sounded like a challenge if he ever heard one.

‘Thomas’ he starts slowly remembering their current situation. ‘Whatever this is, I don’t want to risk it now.’

   He desperately hope Thomas understands his rationale. The match, the season, god the whole year had been such a rollercoaster emotionally, he endanger it all during an emotional moment such as this one.

‘Can we just ..’ Thomas gestures weakly. Manuel nods and lifts his arm allowing him to shuffle closer.

Thomas rests his head on his goalkeeper’s shoulder and together they breathe, letting the sounds of the stadium drown out all thoughts.

Bonus Happy Part:

     Manuel watches from his goal, attentive, taking every detail his brain can process. The clock above him looms, ticking towards its destination in tantalizingly slow fashion.  
_30 seconds now._ He thinks. _We only need to keep possession for 30 more seconds._ The players in red are precise in their motions, not daring to be the piece that cracks under the pressure. Those in yellow are getting increasingly agitated, aggression lining their every muscle as the ball goes out against them once more and the referee whistles on the last sub. In the back of his head, he recognizes it as Mario who jogs onto the pitch, perhaps with them for the last time, a treacherous voice pipes up. He shakes those thoughts out of his head.

   And then it is over: The referee whistling the end of time. He turns to the red and white wall of fans behind him, opens his arms, and yells triumphantly, before turning back to celebrate with his team. The first to reach him are the defenders, Dante jumping excitedly into his arms and yelling words into his ears that Manuel can’t for the life of him understand. Climbing off, Dante warns him to “Look out!” before walking away laughing. Manuel isn’t sure what he means until he is knocked onto his back by a lanky body he would recognize anywhere.

    ‘Someone ought to remind the staff that dogs aren’t allowed on the pitch.’ Manuel manages to say after regaining his breath.  
Thomas’s eyes are a thousand shades of blue and shining above him. ‘We did it.’ He says. ‘We fucking did it Manu.’ He repeats his voice hoarse and his eyes watering. Quickly, Manuel brings his hand to the back of Thomas’s head and tucks it into the side of his neck. He doesn’t think he can see Thomas cry again, happy tears or otherwise. He may do something dumb, like try and kiss every tear that runs a path down Thomas’s face. Distantly, he can hear the rest of team celebrating, but for now, he is content to share this moment.


End file.
